


It's a Bad Stretch

by grimmlin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Has a Dog, Dean-Centric, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8756524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmlin/pseuds/grimmlin
Summary: A short one shot inspired by "Rock Springs to Cheyenne" by Micky and the Motorcars. I recommend giving it a listen. Dean is on his own, set after his return from purgatory while Cas is still lost and Sam isn't hunting. Mentions of Sam, Cas and Benny. I own nothing but the words I wrote...not the characters or the song. I wasn't sure how to tag this one, if you have any suggestions...please share.





	

Dean left Sam behind in Texas, to head out for Idaho on the whispers of a potential case. It isn't even a lead on Kevin, he just had to _go._ He can’t trust his brother, not anymore. Hell, he's not even sure he can trust himself. Not after Sam didn’t even try to look for him when he was in purgatory, and not how Dean hadn't tried harder to get Cas out with him.  

   
   
_"I left my home in Dallas to head out for Idaho_    
   
_Before I reached Colorado I hit three feet of snow"_  

 

Sam has always been home, and he’s just left his home behind in Texas. Dean feels like he isn’t even good enough to have a home. Everything he’s done, everything he’s worked for has been for nothing. He’s nothing without his brother. 

It’s November, it's too cold and Dean is cursing everything right now. He’s lost Cas, he’s lost Sam. What was the point of coming back from purgatory? Everything he had is gone. Sure, he brought Benny back with him; but what does that matter when they can't even travel together?  

“Freaking fantastic” Dean gripes as it starts snowing. At least he still has Baby, he got her back from Sam before his brother told him that he wasn’t coming with him. That he wanted to stay with Amelia, that he was done with hunting. Dean had tried to act like it wasn't a knife through his heart, like his entire purpose in life was just taken away from him. He's isn't sure if he was convincing or if Sam just doesn't care. 

He passed through a town called Rock Springs nearly two hours ago. Rock Springs to Cheyenne is a bad stretch he's been told. He welcomes it. He’s faced Heaven, Hell and Purgatory. He’s fought with Angels, Demons and everything in between. What’s a bit of snow? He scoffs at the idea of a little bit of snow getting the best of him. 

Except, it turns out, it isn’t just a little bit of snow he’s facing. It’s the storm of the decade. 

The temperature is steadily dropping and Dean’s got the heat cranked up as high as it’ll go as Baby dutifully trudges through the feet of snow that’s accumulating. He’s still shivering. “Come on baby” He encourages his car, reaching forward to rub the dash lovingly. He's nearly ready to pray to get through this mess. He knows God exists, somewhere. He knows this as well as he also knows that God doesn't give a damn. The snow is falling heavier and heavier, he can barely see and there is nowhere to stop. No small towns with bed bug infested hotels for him to pull over at. No little roadside bars to seek shelter in. Nothing. He hasn’t even seen another car in miles. The road is empty, except for…wait…what was that? A flash of tan on the side of the road, gone quicker than he thought he saw it. 

“What the hell?” Dean questions to himself as he slams the breaks and pulls over. Baby skids to a stop, the ice on the road causing her to swerve against Dean's careful control even though he was barely creeping along to begin with. He thought he saw…no, couldn’t be. “Cas?” He whispers to the nothingness surrounding him, white knuckling the steering wheel as if it just threatened to escape him. He can’t help himself, he gets out against his better judgement. Praying to his Angel, fearing the best and expecting to find the worst. What could be worse than nothing? 

 

 _"Singing Lord, let the wind blow you know I’m so cold_    
   
_Rock Springs to Cheyenne is a bad stretch I’ve been told_ _. At_    
   
_2 o’clock in the morning on Thanksgiving Day_    
   
_It’s a damn good thing I’m a God fearing man_    
   
_I’ve been forced to pray"_  

 

He stands next to the Impala, her engine still rumbling as her headlights try to cut through the swirling snow around him. “Fuck it’s cold” He mutters, feeling foolish for stopping to begin with, even more foolish for getting out of the car. He crosses his arms across his chest, hugging himself tight and rubbing his biceps with hands as he looks around, searching for the trench coat he thought he saw. Trying for any warmth at all, but it isn’t enough. 

 He slides back behind the wheel, trying in vain to push the heat even higher. The knob is already turned as far as it will go. His seat has gotten cold in the thirty seconds he was out of the car and snow managed to swirl in and is now happily melting all over the place. Dean grumbles at the newly damp spots, cursing his decision to head north now. He knew a blizzard was coming, the worst since 1972 they were saying. He thinks he should have listened. 

  

 _"_ _I don’t think that I’ll ever forget the winter of ‘72_    
   
_It must have been the coldest year that I ever knew"_  

 

He can barely see out the window, his hands nearly frozen to the wheel, but he does see something scurry across the road in front of him. He’s sure of it this time, and he’s sure it isn’t the Angel he was hoping for.  A dog? 

He opens the door again, feeling unusual pity for the little thing. The shaggy little mutt runs up to him without hesitation, rubbing on him as if pleading for help. He’s soaking wet, skinny and Dean is sure that he won’t survive the storm outside. If Dean has failed everyone else, maybe he can at least not fail this stupid little dog. Dean shakes his head to himself, not believing what he knows he's about to do. 

 “Come on boy” He gestures for the little dog to get in. What’ll it hurt? The car still stinks from Sam’s dog anyways. _Sam_ _._ Dean sighs as the dog hops in, climbing across the driver’s seat and settling in Sam’s spot. Dean is half glad not to be alone anymore, even though the little dog at his side is shivering just like him. 

 

 _"There’s a little dog riding by my side_    
   
_And he’s shivering just like me_    
   
_And Lord I’m kind of glad it’s dark outside_    
   
_Cause there really ain’t nothing to se_ _e"_  

 

He creeps back into motion, Baby protesting the snow bank she's forced to push through. He's glad he at least has her.. The radio cut out miles back and he wishes it were still there. The storm must have knocked out power to half the state, not that he could tell. He can't see anything through the raging blizzard around him. 

 

 _"_ _I kinda wish I had a radio to take my mind off you_    
   
_I got my hands on the wheel of something that’s real_    
   
_And my fingers are turning blue"_  

 

His thoughts turn back to Sam, and the home they never had. He wants to be mad at his brother, but he really can't. Sam always wanted out, he proved that when he left for California. There's nothing but lies there. Dean’s desperate half lies are the only thing that brought him back the first time. He won’t do that to Sam again, not now that Sam's found a home. He finally had a chance and he took it. Sam had no way of knowing where Dean went after they killed Dick Roman, or that he was even still alive.  

 

 _"I learned a lesson in Denver and again in San Antone_    
   
_There’s lies in California_    
   
_And you know the truth’s in Mountain Home_    
   
_How can you trust your brother,_    
   
_When you can’t even trust yourself_ _"_  

 

He prays to Cas, it can't hurt. He failed his friend. He failed to bring Cas back with him. Maybe he can at least hear him from purgatory. He's not really a God fearing man, but he's been forced to pray, his guilt needing an outlet. He pleads for forgiveness, he prays for the wind to blow harder and swallow him whole. He's already so cold, if he had light to see by he's sure he would see his fingers turning blue. 

Baby lurches to a stop, falling victim to the deepening snow. Dean can see its nearly to her grill in front of him, and higher on the sides of the road. It looks like its pushing three feet. It came so fast, so hard. Dean tries to get baby out. Leaving the little dog inside and getting out to push. Wandering to the trees along the side and finding fallen branches to shove under her tires. It takes some time, but he manages to get her out and breathes a deep sigh of relief as he starts to move forward again. He has no idea how much further to Cheyenne but he prays it isn’t far. 

The little dog snuggles closer to him, still shivering. Dean looks at it with pity, a hardened part of him softening at the low whine from the mutt. He takes a hand off the wheel and gently strokes the dogs head. He's still soaked from being outside for so long. Dean finds something soothing in the simple animal's presence. Something to take care of, something that needs him. “It’ll be ok little guy” He mumbles, more glad than ever that he isn’t alone. 

 

 _"_ _Singing Lord, let the wind blow you know I’m so cold_    
   
_Rock Springs to Cheyenne is a bad stretch I’ve been told_    
   
_2 o’clock in the morning on Thanksgiving Day_    
   
_It’s a damn good thing I’m a God fearing man_    
   
_I’ve been forced to pray"_  

 

Dean prays to Cas that they find a hotel soon. He can't fail the little dog, riding by his side and shivering just like him. He worries more with each passing minute that they’re going to get stuck again. It's after 2 am, he thinks it might be Thanksgiving day.  

Dean knows better than to believe his prayer has been answered when he sees the feeble glow of a neon sign, but he’s thankful nonetheless. He breathes a small sigh of relief at the thought of getting off the road, at least he _thinks_ he's still on it. There's at least three feet of snow, so it's hard to tell exactly where the road even is. 

It's been 8 hours since he left Rock Springs. It should have been less than a 4 hour drive. Dean curses at the lost time, but still thankful he made it. Thankful that he didn't run out of gas along the way or get stuck and have to wait for a plow. There’s not telling how long that would have taken, or if he and the little dog wouldn’t have frozen to death waiting. 

 _Welcome to Cheyenne_ the sign reads. The dog is still shivering by his side, but there is finally an end in sight. 

Dean manages to convince baby to plow through the snow and into what looks like might be a parking lot underneath all the snow. His door resists opening, dragging through the snow in protest. It’s cold, and wet and Dean is exhausted. He staggers in, thankful that the area around the door has been shoveled. He dusts himself off, basking in the warmth of the office and happier than he’s ever been to be checking in to a cheap hotel. He barely has to force the smile that come to his face when the clerk greets him. 

 

 _"I don’t think that I’ll ever forget the winter of ‘72_    
   
_It must have been the coldest year that I ever knew"_  

 

"You just came from Rock Springs?" The hotel clerk asks with wide, incredulous eyes. "That’s a mighty bad stretch young man. I remember getting stuck out there in '72. I'll never forget it" The old man mumbles, searching for the right key. This is the first hotel Dean's been to in quite a while that still uses real keys. "You're lucky you made it son" the man nods knowingly, his bright blue eyes glistening in the dim light of the hotel office as he passes the key to Dean. He notices the old man is wearing a rumpled old blue suit that would have been fashionable 30 years ago. Dean has to fight a smile when his thoughts flit to Cas. Will Cas still be looking like a disgruntled tax accountant in 30 years? If he ever gets him back? 

Dean smiles at the man, grateful for the room and the fact that he's off that miserable road. The storm is finally starting to die down, but he has to wipe some snow off of baby just to drive to the other side of the building where his room is. 

"Come on little guy, you can stay with me tonight" Dean says to the dog as he unlocks the room he bought for the rest of the night. He's brought the dog this far, why not give him a warm place to sleep tonight before he heads on for Idaho after the roads clear up. 

Dean revels in the hot spray of the shower, the heat sinking bone deep and chasing off the cold he’s been suffering for hours. He makes sure the little dog is dry and feeds him some junk food that he bought from the office. There is no way in hell any pizza delivery men will be out tonight. Of course, Dean fights back a smirk when he’s forced to think of Cas. 

  _Maybe I should call Sam_ is his last thought before falling asleep. He can’t stand being mad at Sam. 

 


End file.
